


As The Day Grows Dark

by poptod



Series: The Kings Love [2]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Chance Meetings, Crushes, Early Queen (Band), Emotions, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Fem!John Deacon - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Gen, Happy Ending, Mysterious Belicia, Rogerina Taylor (Queen), Slow Romance, fem!queen, gender neutral reader, or theyre going to be, these two are just adorable
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-10-05 10:42:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20487590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poptod/pseuds/poptod
Summary: A chance meeting in a park with a certain beautiful woman happens at midnight. And another time. And another time. And for some reason, always at midnight, and why are the both of you always crying?Note: Belicia is in her 20's, not a grandmother. This is for those thirsting after those feminized FaceApp pictures of John Deacon. This is in my universe where they're all around the same age and all female.(Takes place in 1973.)





	1. St. Dunstan Park

**Author's Note:**

> Hi :) So most of you are probably from my Liz x Reader fic. This is a literal continuation of that, but you won't be playing Liz's love interest (Ara, that's her name) anymore. Instead you'll be playing Belicia's love interest (whose name is Verona in my book, referred to as (Y/N) here.) Chapters will be longer, much, much longer in the future. Usually not exceeding 6.000 words. BUT it is not at ALL necessary to read the first book first. None of it is important to the story, just know Liz is dating a girl Ara.

_If I loved you_

_Time and again I would try to say_

_All I’d want you to know._

Cold was something you were quite accustomed to. You’d grown to even enjoy it, as long as it wasn’t too wet. However summer nights would always be your favourite - a remnant of scorching heat and the memory of winter. A warm blue sky painted above, and the sliver of a moon, just a fraction of what it was and will be. The air was half still, smelling mostly of bakeries and bloomed flowers.

Being out an hour or two before midnight wasn’t something that usually occurred, though after what had just happened, you gave yourself a break from normalcy.

It wasn’t your fiancé’s fault. It wasn’t yours either, you knew that logically. No matter your reasoning, nothing helped in the fact that you still hated your fiancé. Well, ex-fiancé now, you supposed. He’d fallen out of love with you, and to be entirely truthful, you’d never loved him in the first place. He was kind, you knew that, but he wasn’t really… your type. In reality you would’ve made best of friends, which you did. Lucky for you he called off the marriage before you both made a very, very large mistake.

All logical thinking, which was something you were fond of, wasn’t helping, because the truth was your life, no matter how unhappy it might’ve been, was uprooted. Marriage planning, though it hadn’t really started, was now already finished. Now you needed to find a new place to move into (though that probably wouldn’t be too hard, you knew a guy already), and then of course now you had an ex out there, who knew everything about you.

It was a good night for getting the hell out of the house and doing some outdoor, silent city thinking.

Not very silent city, but close enough. Quieter than it was in the day at least.

St. Dustan park, a park growing in the ruins of a church, was a wonderful place to be. Not a single person in the place, people passing by rarely, the moon partially visible through golden leaves of a centerpiece tree. Encircling the tree were benches, though benches weren’t particularly your style. Instead you found raised ground, lying on cold rock next to two rotting gravestones. Vines overtook what once were stained glass windows, moss and grass shining through cracks in brick and stone.

You stared up at the leaves overshadowing your view, becoming the only thing you cared to see. Breathing deeply you closed your eyes. This, the whole situation, was for the best. Maxwell was your best friend, he’d be a terrible husband for you. Maybe good for someone else.

Footsteps.

That was new.

Clean, nice shoes, you thought. Upon opening your eyes you saw the same view as before, green leaves above your head, swaying gently in a breeze that wasn’t there. You sat up, seeing a woman in high waisted pants and a button up walking down the old pathway. By chance you caught her eye when she looked up, sniffing, and she paused - caught surprise by either your presence or what you looked like. She, on the other hand, had red eyes, and she was sniffling, and it certainly wasn’t from the cold that wasn’t there.

“Are you alright?”

_Shouldn’t have said that. Don’t start conversations that people don’t want to start. Oh god, don’t have your voice heard first._

It was a minor phobia of yours to start conversations. Somehow, in your childhood, you’d convinced yourself that if you were the first one to speak in a conversation, you’d get arrested. A stupid, stupid fear that you always listened to.

“Y - Yes, I’ll be right, eventually,” she sniffed, shaking her head and sitting down with a small hop on the raised ground. She wasn’t wearing a jacket, and her shoes didn’t fit her. Must’ve left in a rush.

“I, um, it’s nothing big. Just stressed. You know how university can get,” she wrapped her arms tightly around herself, “what about you?”

“Me? Oh, I um, I’m a premed, major in biological studies, minor in art therapy,” you answered, fidgeting in your seat before settling easily. You stole glances at her, but she was fixed on the ground.

“I meant what’s wrong with you,” she half laughed, too tired to do it fully.

“Uh, yes. Of course that’s what you meant,” you stuttered, feeling useless tears prick shame at your eyes. “My fiancé broke it off with me. Best for both us, we’re best friends, not lovers. You know.”

“I don’t, but it sounds rather miserable.”

“Oh well it is! Well, I uh, what I mean is, uh, it’s - I’m fine, my relationship with him, it’s fine. I just, um, I have to move out, and I have to tell my parents that I’m not going to be married, and they were really excited for me, that’s all. What - what are you majoring in?”

“Electronics, actually,” she said, pulling a cigarette out of her pocket. She offered you one but you declined, not really in the mood. It wasn’t often you smoked anything, and in that case it was usually a cigar. You just nodded in response to her question.

With lips pursed and eyes ahead you took your time looking her over. Small glances did the trick, allowing you to not get caught, which would’ve been disastrous. Despite how stressed she said she was, her clothes were clean, fashionable even. Simplistic, modern. Sleek. A bit, or a lot, like herself, or what you’d seen of her thus far. Her general face area was the only give away that she was a student. Brown, unruly, unbrushed hair that had obviously been half slept on, red eyes from either crying or lack of sleep, with dark enough bags under her eyes to say for sure she was lacking in the sleep department. The dark surrounding you obscured most of her face.

Wait, when had she turned to look at you?

“Quiet little thing, aren’t you?”

“Uh - oh, I, uh, I don’t know about that,” you laughed nervously. You just had a fear of starting conversations, that was all. She didn’t need to know that.

“It’s alright, I don’t bite and tell.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I didn’t say that one right, did I?” She eyed you with a jocular smile, lopsided and ever so sweet. Oh, she was _pretty_.

“It, uh, s’pose you could call it a malapropism,” you mumbled with a shy smile.

“Never heard of that before. Bother you to enlighten me?”

You laughed, rubbing your hands against each other, trying to relieve stress. Not from her, or from you, from your situation. If only you knew her better, you’d have an easier time. Alas, no such luck.

“It’s when you, uh, put two idioms together. Usually doesn’t make sense but it can. Like, um, ‘you can take one mans’ horse to another mans’ treasure, but you can’t make it drink.’”

“And what’s that mean, if anything?” She leaned closer to you, still smiling. Her leg sat over the other, twirling her foot in the air.

“Up for interpretation, I suppose. Maybe that you can take one man to another mans’ treasure, but you can’t make that man love the other mans’ treasure. But, um, I think you can sort of already say that with the phrase, uh… one mans’ trash is another mans’ treasure.” She nodded sagely, as if she were contemplating it seriously.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

You chuckled, eyes locked onto the ground. Silence ensued, filled with the absence of birds, and the lack of people filling sidewalks. Occasionally a car would pass by. For a solid thirty minutes you both sat there, and you felt terribly awkward the whole time. You felt much like a host with nothing to say, which was ridiculous, because you weren’t a host, and… well, you did have nothing to say, that part was correct.

She stood, blocking what little moonlight was there from reaching you.

“You’re wonderful company, but I still have to get back to studying,” she said to you, smiling as though to say sorry.

“Don’t study too hard, alright?”

Her smile turned sweet, almost teasing.

“I won’t. Thank you.”

She was gone faster than you wanted her to be.

What was her name again?


	2. Finders, Keepers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You keep forgetting to ask her name... and she drops a few words that get you thinking, and thinking hard. Also, Maxwell's acting a tad strange, but he's a strange person anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was short, i apologize, i suddenly keep getting ideas for my maggie and melina fics which will come up after this one, so i dont have any serious ideas for this yet, but its all planned out. thanks for reading :)

You’re out again because you needed more time to think. That’s all. You’re wandering into the same park as last night because it helped you think, obviously, not because you couldn’t stop thinking about Her the entirety of the day, and because you couldn’t sleep because you didn’t know Her name. Certainly not. St. Dunstan was just a beautiful place to be, and it was a break from Maxwell, who was having a terrible time with his family who couldn’t grasp that the two of you were still, in fact, friends.

Fortunately for you, Maxwell was a nice person, so he let you stay in his house until you found your own place. ‘A long sleepover,’ he called it, to which you responded that it had already been about a two year sleepover, from the moment you moved in.

“We’re still friends?” He had asked, for the sixteenth time since he’d called off the marriage just yesterday.

“Of course we are. But I never want to kiss you again,” you replied.

“That’s fair.”

You rolled your shoulders back. The streets seemed colder, despite it being rather warm. Maybe you should’ve brought a jacket so you could stuff your hands in the pockets and sulk. You hadn’t even reached the park yet and you were already disappointed that you hadn’t seen Her yet.

What was the chance that she’d be there anyway? Slim, considering she was in university and probably had a lot of work.

_This whole thing is stupid, I should just go home,_ you said to yourself, biting the inside of your cheek. With firm footsteps that hurt the heel of your feet, you kept onwards, not daring to even look behind you.

Maybe some wind, a full moon, and clouds. And a colder temperature. That would perfectly set your mood. Alas it was warm, and the moon was a waning crescent that was nearly a new moon, and the wind was still. Nothing moved but passing cars, blinding you temporarily from their headlights.

_She probably didn’t even like me that much, she was only being nice._

The old stone of church ruins towered over you, giving you a haven empty of people and hopefully full of Her smile. Leaves were swaying in a breeze you couldn’t feel, fallen twigs and leaves crunching beneath your feet as you walked to sit on a bench. It was the closest seat, and you didn’t feel like walking anymore. Hopefully She would find you, since you weren’t anywhere near your original spot.

You payed close attention to the ground. The colours, mostly obscured by the dark, were interesting to contemplate. How they got there, why it was discoloured, whether it was a natural or human cause, or whether it was erosion.

_Have I always been this boring?_

“Another fiancé break it off with you?”

Your head shot up, wide eyes locking immediately with the shadowed eyes of Her.

“Yes! I mean, no! Certainly not, I don’t get around that much,” you replied shakily, eyes darting to see if anyone else was around.

“You’re rather lucky, you know. Or you were,” she sighed, sitting down beside you. Her arm sat between the two of you, resting on the armrests built into the benches.

“What do you mean by that?” You asked, voice quieting as you watched her.

“Married by 20? Lucky. Most people don’t even find someone they like enough to be a roommate till they’re 25, and before then, you just get shit roommates.”

“I’m not, uh, twenty. Twenty-one actually,” you corrected her, hoping she wouldn’t take offense. You’d met a few unsavoury characters in your time that didn’t like to be corrected.

“Such a dramatic difference,” she spoke playfully, rolling her tongue and making you go weak. Thank god for sitting. Her smile would’ve made you fall to your knees.

“I, ha, yeah, uh… how old are you?” You asked, rubbing the back of your neck and hoping she’d stop looking at you so you could talk normally.

“Three and twenty,” she answered, still smiling, but looking forward instead. She seemed much more at peace than she had last night.

“I passed my finals,” she said, reading and answering your mind. She turned to you with a wide smile, eyes crinkling with delight.

“That’s wonderful! Was it hard?” You asked, moving in your small seat to face her more.

“A little, I suppose. Nothing too much for me,” she joked, looking at the ground and back up at you. She fiddled with the flared sleeves of a purple shirt.

A stretch of silence split the conversation into a full halt, letting your anxiety creep in from the crevices of your mind. Most of the time you loved silence, sitting with friends in complete comfort and solace in the quiet that occurs between two people who know each other well enough that no words need to be said. But you didn’t know her well, and she was the sort of person that made you want to hear their voice all the time. She was sweet, and soft, and absolutely kinky, as far as you could tell.

“Why’d you come here again?” She asked, relaxed into her seat with eyes closed.

“I - I, uh, Maxwell, my ex? He’s upset about his parents. They can’t seem to get that we’re still friends, and honestly, I’m getting sick of them too,” you mumbled. She didn’t need to hear about your problems. She hummed, nodding slowly. It turned to a tune you’d never heard before, entrancing and entertaining. After a few moments it began to sound familiar.

“Uh, why are you here again? If you passed, and all that,” you asked as the tune once more escaped you.

“Honestly?” She looked at you, and you nodded. “I wanted to see you again. I’m probably the first person you talked to after you and your mate called it off. That’s got to mean something, hasn’t it?”

“Uh, well, I don’t know,” you mumbled with a shrug, feeling a heavy fluster settle in your face. She stood, brushing off the back of her white pants.

“Well you know what they say. Finders, keepers, right? I found you.” Her tongue peeked out just a little between her teeth, smiling as she winked at you. Her hands went in her pockets and she turned, leaving you wide eyed and red as all hell.

What in the hell was she implying?

With uneven footsteps you wandered home, frowning to yourself as her words repeated in your head. What had she meant? Was she trying to say that she _owned_ you now? That had been illegal for several years now. Before you fully could understand you were back home, Maxwell sitting up on the couch, his head between his hands.

“Oh, you’re back,” he said, looking up at you with bright green eyes. His accent, Scottish, was thick with the alcohol he’d obviously been drinking.

“Are you drunk?” You asked, taking your shoes off at the door.

“A little, I had a few glasses of scotch. Care to join?”

“No, no… I met her again. She’s passed her finals,” you relayed your new information to him. sitting beside him. You leaned into the comfortable cushions, closing your eyes with a sigh.

“Yeah? What’s her name?”

“FUCK! I knew I was forgetting something!” You shot up, face palming yourself with a hard whack to your head. Maxwell laughed, rolling onto his side and half lying on the couch, his feet still planted on the ground.

“You, my dearest, are hopeless.”

“Yes, well, we’ve known that for quite some time.” you mumbled through your hands covering your face. Still half lying down he grabbed the bottle of scotch off the coffee table, pouring himself another glass.

“That’s the nice stuff, I thought we were saving that,” you noticed, getting up to grab your own glass. If it was the nice stuff, you ought to have some before he drank it all.

“It’s a large bottle, it’ll last,” he sighed.

“What’s the occasion?”

“I, uh… nothing… just my parents.”

He was lying, you could tell. He was terrible at lying.

“And the truth?” You asked, sitting back down on the couch with a clean glass. He sat up, pouring scotch into it.

“I blew some money on a stupid impulse,” he groaned, rubbing his eyes and sipping from his own cup.

“On what?” You raised an eyebrow, hoping he didn’t make too stupid of a decision.

“Can’t laugh at me,” he said through gritted teeth, feeling the burn of alcohol down his throat. You took your own sip, savouring the same burn he felt. You nodded, gesturing vaguely for him to continue.

“… Makeup. I bought blush, and lipstick.”

“You found a girl already?”

“It’s for me,” he said quietly, downing the rest of his drink. Slowly you nodded, not fully understanding. If he wanted makeup, you had plenty of friends who wore it.

“Alright. Was it expensive stuff?”

He leaned over the arm of the couch, grabbing a plastic bag and dropping it between you two. You opened it, finding the most outrageous shade of blush, but a nice, pale pink shade of lipstick.

“This is a terrible colour. Ask for my help next time,” you advised, pulling the blush out.

“Oh please, you don’t give a rats arse about makeup. I probably know more than you do.”

“I know about colours, and this shouldn’t be a blush,” you said, wiggling the circular container. “And besides, why’d you buy makeup anyway? Want to wear it?”

He nodded, a small movement you had to look for to notice. You shrugged, obviously not as bothered by the idea as he was.

“Plenty of guys wear makeup. Wouldn’t worry about it too much, do what you want, eh?”

He chuckled, looking up at you gratefully.

“Thanks.”

“Besides there’s more important things. Let me tell you what happened with the girl, right?”

He laughed, rolling his eyes as you kept talking.

“I don’t remember how the topic came up but she said ‘finders, keepers,’ and then she said she found me, which sort of, to me, implied that she owned me, and I’m not sure where to go with that? Does this mean she likes me or that she’s just an arsehole? Any advice?”

“Ha! Quite a… quite a character you’ve met. Uh, I think she just likes you. Wants to keep you, like how you meet someone you really connect with, and you want to be friends with them forever. That sort of deal,” he said, giving his own spin on the situation.

“So what you’re saying is, she wants to be my friend?”

“Probably. Else she would’ve just said hello, and kept on walking, right?”

“… Suppose so. Always so smart, aren’t you?” You grinned, lightly punching his shoulder.

“Mum did say I’m the smart one.”

“Shut up.”


	3. Dinner... Date?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her name is Belicia!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit longer :)

“Wake up, sleeping beauty!” A pillow hit your head, hard, causing you to groan at a sprouting headache.

“What… what time is it,” you grumbled hoarsely, half sitting up.

“Around 23,” Maxwell said, looking at his watch.

“Then why in the hell are you waking me up?” You hissed, squinting at him with dry eyes.

“Your girlfriend is probably waiting for you and I’m more invested in your love life than my own, come _on_, get up!” He said happily, grabbing your leg and dragging you out of bed. Your butt thunked onto the floor painfully and you groaned again, falling back and letting him drag you god knows where.

“You’re the worst,” you moaned as he splashed water in your face. Above you, the flickering lights told you that you were now lying on the bathroom floor.

“I’m aware, now get dressed in something nice, I want to meet her and actually know her name this time.” He pushed you to sitting position, dragging you to your feet and pushing you out the bathroom door.

“I hate you,” you mumbled, pulling on a pair of dress pants.

“And I you, darling. Let’s go?” He said, throwing you a frilly button up you’d purchased at an antique shop. With fumbling hands you pulled it on, buttoning it up to the top. Within the next few minutes you’d been kicked out of your house, Max bidding you a good night and locking the door. For a while you simply sat on the steps, looking as though you’d been kicked out of the house for disobedience. With closed eyes you contemplated your situation, but all you could think of was how much you currently hated Max.

Eventually you left your step, and your pouting behind, setting off in direction of the park again. It was getting a bit repetitive. You hadn’t actually gone yesterday - you were dead tired from trying to find your own place that was affordable. Plus, you needed to get a well paying job, since yours was selling your art, which people didn’t pay much for.

_I’ll probably have to go back to school, finish up with the medical degree I abandoned,_ you thought to yourself, kicking a rock down the pavement. You frowned to yourself. Lives being in your hands stressed you out.

Despite the dark, and the minimal amount of people outside, you still managed to bump into someone. You stumbled backwards, apologizing quickly.

“It’s… fine,” she mumbled, brushing herself off. Alongside her was another woman, who had just whispered something into her ear.

“Sorry about that,” the shorter one, who stood alongside the blonde one, said.

“Quite alright,” you said with a curt nod, walking past them.

“Strange,” one of them whispered to the other, the sound just barely reaching your ears.

“It’s not that strange,” the other said.

“Shut up, Liz.” It was quickly followed by laughter.

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts as their voices faded into nothing. Before you actually reached the park, you saw Her. She saw you as well, rushing over to you.

“Are you alright?” She asked, grabbing your face and inspecting it.

“I’m sorry?” You said nervously, wondering what the hell was going on. Were you supposed to not be alright? Had something happened?

“You didn’t show up yesterday,” she said quietly, hands falling back to her side.

“Didn’t know this was going to be a nightly thing,” you mumbled, casting your glance to the ground.

“None the matter now. I don’t think I ever got your name,” she said, pronouncing your own thoughts before you could.

“(Y/N).”

“Belicia,” she replied with a gentle smile. “I have a, uh, request of you.”

You nodded, wondering what it was.

“Dinner. Just the two of us.”

“A… a date?” You asked hesitantly, eyes squinting together.

“No! Of course not. Of course not,” she stumbled, backing away from you quickly. You nodded slowly, still confused.

“Right. Sorry, where are we going?” You asked, trying to amend the situation. She cleared her throat, awkwardly bobbing her head in a nod with you.

“Not far from here, fancy a walk?” She answered, her hands going into her pockets as her suave exterior once more resumed its’ position.

“Could go for that,” you shrugged, half laughing as she led you down the pavement. It was, for the most part, quiet. You had nothing to say, only questions that seemed too inappropriate to ask. Why was she so worried? Why was she taking you to dinner? The whole thing seemed all too daunting for you, a simple young person who just wanted some peace and quiet from a break up with their best friend/fiancé that should not have been a fiancé.

Looking up at Belicia, you couldn’t help but feel just a little lucky, despite the curious circumstances. You liked her - _really_ liked her, but there didn’t seem to be a connection. The conversations felt stiff, the interactions forced, but you hoped this dinner would fix that. She was too good to let go so soon.

A few blocks more and you arrived in front of a small restaurant, neon light glowing from the ‘open’ sign in the window. Chairs sat outside, looking dirty, but the interior looked much cleaner, a bit more homey.

“You come here often?” You asked her, leaning towards her but not looking.

“Sometimes,” she replied, taking you inside and sitting you down on a comfy corner couch. Shining dimly above you was an old fashioned lamp, hanging off the ceiling, and a flower you couldn’t identify sitting in a small vase in the center of the table.

“Tell me about this fiancé of yours, what’s he like?” She leaned forward, putting her head in her hands with a cheesy smile. It blushed her cheeks, closing her eyes together a little, her eyelashes getting thicker.

“Uh…,” you lost your words, “uh… why - why d-do you ask?”

“I suppose you could say I take an interest in beautiful people,” she replied, voice thick with a special concoction of sweetness and sexiness that made you want to close your eyes and die.

“Maxwell… he’s my best friend. A tad dramatic, but… he’s good, y’know?” You explained poorly. How to talk about someone without revealing too much information was an art you weren’t familiar with.

“I have a friend like that. Melina, she’s terrible,” Belicia said, scrunching her face together in a sort of pout. She had a very specific lip and eye shape, and nose shape, you noticed as her face fell into a playful smile.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’ve got a specific face?” You blurted out, furrowing your eyebrows as you scanned her over.

“I’ve heard it before, though I’ve doubted whether it was a compliment or an insult. What is it, coming from you?”

“Can’t you tell?” You said with a shaky chuckle.

“You’re a bit unreadable. I don’t think you really make facial expressions.”

“What are you talking about? I’m incredibly emotive.”

“Smile for me then.”

You smiled brightly, hoping that would prove her wrong. None of your friends had ever mentioned you being emotionless, or nonemotive, or whatever - you’d always assumed, going along with a sort of artistic personality, you’d have a lot of facial expressions.

“Beautiful smile,” Belicia commented quietly, still smiling at you. It was more of a smirk now.

“See?” You laughed, quickly stopping when the waiter came over. He asked what you wanted to drink, and in turn Belicia replied milk, and you replied with orange juice. He gave you both odd looks, which seemed deserved, since both of you were above drinking age, and had just ordered milk and juice.

“Tell me, what do you do for a living?”

“I sell paintings. Been thinking about going back to university,” you sighed, lolling your head backwards. University didn’t exactly sound fun. You’d be kind of old compared to everyone else.

“Two things to address,” Belicia put up her finger as though to pause the conversation, but she continued just the same. “I’d _adore_ seeing some of your paintings. Second, what would you go back to University for?”

“Not sure, probably finish my M.D.?” You answered stiffly. “And my, uh, paintings aren’t that good. Maybe you can see them some other time.”

“I bet they’re good.”

“I bet they’re not.”

Your drinks arrived, and you took a large gulp from yours, if only to stop having to talk with her. Despite how much you wanted to be at ease with her, all she did was put you on edge, a constant feeling of needing to prove yourself. She was too much for you, and far too good, and that combination made you feel both inferior and as though you needed to be perfect at every moment.

“Do I make you nervous?” She asked, leaning her head in one hand.

“W-What?”

“You’re nervous.”

You looked down at your fidgeting hands, quickly hiding them underneath the table.

“No I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Hiding hands doesn’t make them less of a giveaway,” she laughed softly, almost dreamily. Or maybe that was just you, and your vision giving you hearts floating around a rosey hue of her cheeks.

“Can I be honest with you?” You rushed the words out, feeling yourself physically begin to burst with anxiety. Either you told her the truth about your anxiousness, or you needed to leave.

“Of course. My friends say I’m best known for my own honesty and my ability to keep secrets,” she said with a wink.

“Right. I’m really anxious right now and I’m not sure why,” that was a lie, you knew exactly why, “and I just want you to know that this isn’t because I’m a usually anxious person. I’ve never had anxiety before meeting you and that doesn’t mean you’re bad for me or whatever the psychologists are saying these days, I’m just anxious, and I really don’t know why,” another lie, the same as the last one, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t like you. I really do, you seem like a really.. uh… nice, and, um, interesting, person.”

“You talk fast,” was all she replied with, still smiling at you.

“I’m sorry,” you practically panted out after your spiel.

“Don’t be,” she said, patting your hand that had landed on the table.

“I just, I don’t do the talking. I don’t ever do the talking, I’m usually very quiet, but you’re also quiet, for the uh, most part, and now I feel an obligation to do a job I have no experience or expertise at —“

“You can just be quiet, you know. Quiet can be good, and I don’t mind it. I can talk for you if you’d like,” she caught your eye, her practically shining in your view, sent from God to just to calm your ass down.

“Thank you,” you breathed out, shutting your eyes and allowing yourself a moment to breathe.

“What would you like to eat?” The waiter was back at your table, and had probably witnessed your entire conversation. Your head fell to your arms, face planting in to the table.

“Breakfast burrito,” Belicia answered, tapping you when it was your turn.

“I’ll just have some chips, thanks,” you mumbled through your shirt sleeve.

“Embarrassed, are we, my little cherub?”

“_Please_ don’t call me that,” you practically cried, the nickname striking you right through the heart like cupid’s arrow and coming out the other side.

“Why not? You look like one when you blush. Bright faced little cherub.”

“It’s demeaning,” you whined, hiding your face in your hands.

“I thought it’d be dignifying. Cherubs are one of the highest rank of angel,” she casually said, twirling her hair with her finger and not looking at you.

“You’re too much,” you laughed, your face what you were sure was an alarming shade of red. What you wouldn’t give to switch positions, so she was the blushing mess, and you were the cool one. Her blushing senselessly like you were would be quite the sight.

“Why are you so interested in me anyway?” You asked, trying to get over yourself.

“Who said I’m interested?”

You gaped at her, mouth opening and closing as words failed to pass your throat.

“Uh -“

“I’ll say it now: I’m interested in you.”

“You’re… really confusing,” you said, words oozing out before you could fully collect yourself and your surprise.

“You should meet my friends, they’re worse.”

“If they’re worse I don’t think I’ll fancy meeting them, actually,” you sighed. A few more deep breaths and you’d be back to normal.

“You don’t have a stable job, do you?” She stated suddenly, making the biggest current worries of your life come to the forefront of your mind. You fidgeted in your seat, wondering uncomfortably how she had figured that out.

“How’d you figure that?” You asked, looking down. In all honesty it was a bit embarrassing.

“Various things gave me hints. Your clothes, state of stress. Wouldn’t be nearly as worried if you had a stable source of income that _wasn’t_ your ex-fiance,” she listed off her reasons, raking over your exterior.

“Well… you’re right. That’s why I was thinking of going back to school. My husband - my, uh, friend. Maxwell’s his name, he’s an engineer.”

“Like me. Maybe you have a type,” she said with a wink. You let out a nervous laugh that bubbled sickeningly in your stomach.

“Yes… uh… he’s an engineer, I didn’t finish med school. Bloody bad idea that was. I couldn’t handle the stress of someones life being in my hands I suppose.”

“It’s not for everyone. Not for me,” she comforted with a half shrug. She set her hand down upon yours, catching your eye with a gentle look. She smiled, soft, and assuring.

“Anyway,” you said, trying to break the quiet tension that had just formed, “I’ll probably have to go back to med school, finish my degree, get a residency, all that fun stuff.”

“Or you could… not,” Belicia suggested, tilting her head to the side.

“How…?”

“Get a job in the service industry.”

“Sounds horrid.”

“It is.”

You laughed, withdrawing your hand from underneath hers to cover your mouth.

“I’m serious though!” She leaned back into her booth, crossing her arms. “Come work for me.”

There was no _way_ that could end well. If you spent more time with her, you knew something would happen - most likely you having a mental breakdown. Besides, she was an engineer, and you had no expertise in that area. What would she need you for? A receptionist?

“I’m not an engineer. Don’t think it’d work out,” you chuckled, trying to seem calm about the whole situation. You couldn’t deny the pull of your heart, the desire to spend more time with her, and working with her would’ve done that. Still, you couldn’t be of any use to her.

“Oh, well I’m not an engineer either. My job. Close to nothing to do with engineering. I can show you,” she said, still smiling brightly at the prospect of working with you. The whole situation reminded you of what she had said a couple night ago, that sort of insinuated that she owned you in some way, and at this point, you couldn’t plainly _deny_ that fact. In that some way, she held quite the control over you, despite the fact that you hadn’t known her that long, and you knew very little about her.

“What… what do you mean, that you can show me?” You asked quietly, beginning to consider that maybe she was being serious.

“Come to my workplace tomorrow, or the day after. Or in five days, I don’t care, just show up at some point, yeah? Promise I’ll make it worth your time,” she assured with a confident tone, smiling down at you as though she were seated on a throne.

“R- Right. I’ll do that.”

You were busy. You had to find a new place to live, and you had to find a job, and life in general was hectic with the cancellation of wedding plans and the dealings with angry relatives.

“I’ll make time.”

“I know you will,” she replied. You let out a weak, singular laugh, looking down. She knew she was right.

The food arrived and you busied yourself with eating, trying to stay silent at risk of embarrassing yourself further. Even with the meal keeping her occupied she kept looking at you, gaze never wavering except the odd time when she actually looked at her plate. With a smaller quantity of food you finished before her, waiting patiently as she finished with hers.

“So, um, where do you work?” You asked as she set her utensils down, pushing the plate away from herself.

“Secret. I’ll give you the address,” she said, pulling a notebook out of her pockets. The first thought that went through your mind was you couldn’t believe she could fit a notebook in women’s pant pockets, and the second thought, was that it was a little odd to carry a notebook in your pocket, along with a pen.

“How do I know you won’t murder me? All this sounds suspicious.”

“Don’t you trust me, angel?” She mumbled, scribbling the address down and sliding it over to you. You’d never heard of the place.

“… Not really. I don’t even know your last name,” you said quietly, still scanning over the slip of paper.

“If I tell you my last name, will you trust me?” She asked, leaning forward.

“A little.”

“It’s Belicia Beacon, if that means anything to you.”

It had to. The name seemed all too familiar, but you couldn’t pinpoint where you’d heard it before - maybe she worked at a place you’d been to, or perhaps she was a little famous. Still you nodded.

“(L/N). That’s my last name,” you said in reply. An equal trade, and with her sly smile, you decided without a doubt you’d at least go and check out her workplace, even if you didn’t take the job.

You realized, in that moment, how easy it would be to kidnap and murder you. Still, looking up at Belicia, she didn’t really seem the type at all.

“So you’ll come?” She asked.

“… Sure.”

Upon noticing the time she bid you good bye, paying for both of your plates despite your protests. Your homes were in separate directions from the restaurant, so you both turned away from each other, walking to your own respective houses.

Maxwell was fast asleep on the couch, the TV still on and playing some crap commercial. You shook him awake, making him just conscious enough to hear you and process that it was you speaking.

“Her name is Belicia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!


	4. A Peach Gin and Tonic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You visit Belicia's workplace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for two things:  
that this took so long  
and that it's garbage  
thanks for reading!

The next morning, you explained with quick words to Max what had happened the night before. He insisted that you visit her workplace immediately, but you still had doubts - sure, inside you knew that you were definitely going to go, but the question was when. If you kept her waiting, you’d come off as less desperate, but that was just the problem. You were desperate. Not exactly to see her again, but you really needed a job, no matter what it was. Belicia, sweet, intelligent Belicia, had a job for you, and it probably wasn’t bad. The pay though, was an entirely different matter.

“I’ll give you three days. If you don’t visit before then I’m dragging you there,” he told you right as he walked out the door, heading to his workplace. He never spoke about what he did, which was fine with you. You probably wouldn’t understand the logistics of it all. When he did talk about work, you listened diligently.

You decided not to go that day. Instead you began packing up your belongings, nonessentials that you didn’t commonly use. Decorations and books that you’d read already, or that you had no interest in reading quite yet. You didn’t meet her at the park in the evening either, deciding that some time alone with your friend would be nice, watching movies and getting a little drunk.

“You’re a little bitch,” he slurred to you, practically melted into the couch, eyes transfixed on the television.

“I’m your little bitch,” you laughed, shoving your hand still wearing his ring in his face, “FOREVER!!”

“Where’d you get that joke? You’re not smart enough to come with it on your own.”

“Ouch.”

In the morning, with a bad headache, you debated with Maxwell whether or not to return your rings. Neither of you had taken them off, since there wasn’t really a safe place to put them.

“Could wear them as friendship rings,” you suggested. It was a beautiful ring.

“And have everyone think you’re engaged?”

It… _did_ look like an engagement ring.

“Alright fine, we’ll put it in a box and, I dunno, sell them?”

“But they’re so nice,” he whined.

“Put them in a box and decide later?”

“Perfect,” he said, ruffling your hair.

The questions of who the rings would go with, if they were to be sold, gifted away, or if you’d both take one, would be answered later.

Midday, still doing nothing, you got a little anxious. Maxwell had left a while ago, and in your silent home you felt the looming of your ‘end date,’ in which you had to go visit Belicia.

Well… you weren’t _doing_ anything. It wouldn’t hurt to see her, would it?

That short string of thought caught you in a cab, heading towards the address Belicia had given you two nights ago. In the back of the car you stayed silent, hoping against all hope that this was a good decision.

Upon your arrival, you were still confused. The building wasn’t conspicuous, and you had no idea what the building was for. The paint gave off no clues, a boring black, and there were few windows. Overall, you were beginning to once more believe that she was going to kill you.

Curiosity is the root of all human ambition, that and greed. And sometimes love. But for you, your motivating factor was curiosity. Not love. Nor greed. And it certainly wasn’t fear, because if it was, you’d have already turned tail and fled back home. The inside was messy, miscellaneous stains on the old carpet, flickering golden lights above you that you thanked weren’t too harsh. There was no one at the front desk, and in fact there seemed to be no sign that anyone had come there in years except for the voices coming from the hallway behind the main room.

With slow steps, calming yourself with each meter you grew closer, you made it to the only door that had light behind it. The voices originated from there, the occasional bang of drums and loud belt interrupting casual speech. Unsure of what to do, you knocked, near immediately met with an exhausted man.

“Yes?” He asked, head peeking out the door.

“Uh - is Belicia here?” You asked meekly, curling in on yourself. You had an awful feeling that you had the wrong place, that you were disturbing something important.

“… One moment,” he said, door slammed in front of your face within the blink of an eye. You cleared your throat, standing awkward and alone in the hallway.

A few moments later, the door reopened, the man letting you in.

“I’m Beach. Jim Beach. Nice to meet you,” he sighed, holding his hand out for you to shake. You took it, introducing yourself as Belicia’s friend. You were in a recording studio, you finally realized - sitting behind glass with a whole load of buttons in front of Jim.

“I can’t _believe_ you invited a friend to watch a recording session. I’ve never done that,” one of the women behind the glass said.

“Yes, you fucking have, you just have the shittiest memory,” another sighed. She had a huge head of curly hair, you noticed.

“Can we not argue?” Belicia, standing in the corner with a bass around her shoulders said. She pulled the strap off her, setting the instrument on the nearby couch. With a quick jog she opened the door to the room you stood in, greeting you with an unexpected hug.

“Hi angel, come to watch us?” She asked with a smile, pulling away from you, her hands still on your shoulders.

“Uh… something like that,” you finally came up with, mind blanking with her affection.

“So as you might’ve noticed, I’m a musician,” she said gesturing out to the three girls in the room. They waved half heartedly.

“I didn’t know that,” you stated plainly. Of course you didn’t know that, she’d never mentioned it.

“_Your_ job, should you choose to accept it,” she said with a chuckle, “would be assisting Miami, or us, in anything we might need.”

“So… a personal assistant.”

“A bit like that. You’ll mainly be Miami’s though.”

“Who’s Miami?”

“Me,” Jim, sitting at the control board said, rubbing his eyes.

“That out there is Melina,” she pointed to a woman with short, black hair, irritatedly scanning her fingernails. In front of her hung a microphone.

“That’s Maggie,” she said, pointing to that curly haired woman from before. A guitar was slung around her neck, and she was stroking bland chords that didn’t make much of a sound.

“And that’s Liz,” she said, pointing towards the blonde girl at the drums. She looked familiar, if only a little.

“Right,” you sucked in a breath, rubbing your hands together.

“You can sit over here,” Jim said, pulling a rolling chair over with his foot.

“Um - thank you,” you said quietly, sitting down in the chair. Belicia sent you a wink and a wave, retreating back into the recording studio.

They played exceptionally well. You weren’t sure what exactly to expect, what with the shoddy environment, and the fact that everyone seemed dead tired. Maybe they did well because they were dead tired, or they were tired because they did well - you didn’t put much thought into it, instead simply paying attention to the music.

“I know we’re not paying you right now, but could you go get me a coffee? There’s a machine across the hall,” Jim looked up at you, standing beside him. He looked on the edge of begging, so you agreed with a happy smile. He let out an exhausted sigh of relief, thanking you and immediately heading back to taking care of the four girls.

As promised a break room was right across the hall, with a single table, counters on either side, lined with cabinets and various tea and coffee machines. It was one of the easier machines you’d encountered, so within a few minutes, you returned with a black coffee. He hadn’t specified milk or sugar, so you hadn’t added any.

“Thanks love,” he said, not turning to you as he took it, taking a sip. “Let’s take a quick break, eh? Let’s say five minutes?” He said into the microphone, followed by agreements, and the flopping of tired bodies to the floor.

“May I ask a question?” You asked, sitting beside Jim.

“Of course.”

“If you aren’t getting payed, why are you here? You seem a bit… I dunno, expensive?”

He wore a suit - a nice one too, clean pressed and exact to his measurements.

“They’re my, uh, friends. I’ve known Melina since primary school. Fickle friend group we’ve got. Consistent at the same time, too.”

“So you’ve always sort of been their manager?” You asked with a small chuckle.

“Yeah, sort of,” he laughed as well. “How’d you meet Belicia? She doesn’t trust easy, you must’ve been special.”

“I, ah, met her in a park. At midnight,” you mumbled, realizing just then how creepy that sounded. Jim furrowed his eyebrows, just as confused as you generally were.

“I know it sounds bad,” you laughed awkwardly, “but I was there because my fiancé broke up with me, which was good for both of us, and she was there because she was stressed, and we sort of connected. Had dinner a few nights later, and she asked me to come here, told me that if I needed a job there was one here. And, well, I sort of need a job, since my main source of income is now not mine.”

He nodded understandingly, swiveling back and forth in his chair.

“Fair. You’re helpful, too. You have the job if you want it, though the pay isn’t great so far, we just released our album.”

“That’s alright. Sounds pretty good, I think I’ll stick around,” you joked, getting him to laugh. He swiveled to face the glass, pressing a button and leaning into a microphone.

“You four ready yet?” He asked, met with resigned nods.

Throughout the rest of the day, you didn’t feel like much help. You never had music theory, and you didn’t play any instruments. Music was a thing you enjoyed, but you never immersed yourself in it, focusing on art that you could see and touch. A few more hours, and Jim officially called the rest of the day off. With quiet steps you entered the recording studio, watching with careful eyes as everyone put their instruments in careful casings, setting them up for tomorrows’ session. It was something no one told you to do, but you felt like doing it, because putting away instruments sounded like something you’d need to be able to do in the future.

“Fancy a drink?” Belicia asked, bass safely in its’ casing.

“I should probably get home, I don’t know if Max -“

“Who’s Max?” Liz, the drummer, practically shouted across the room.

“My ex-fiance,” you replied with a nervous voice. Liz seemed like she’d be a lot to deal with.

“Ouch,” was all she replied, looking back at her drums with a fond gaze.

“Uh… anyway, it’s a bit late, isn’t it?” You said, turning back to Belicia.

“Best time to go out,” she said with a smile. You shrugged, feeling all your insides shaking as she continued to look at you, eyes seeming to pierce through your skin.

“I - I guess I could go for drinks. Nothing more than that, though, I ought to be home before midnight,” you finally answered, thinking over your options. Max would understand.

“You don’t have to, Bel just likes you,” Liz punched your shoulder lightly as she left out the door. When she was gone, Belicia looked at you expectantly, seeing whether you’d deny or confirm her invitation once more.

“I’ll go, not much else to do, right?” You laughed nervously. She smiled, her body untensing as she led you outside. It was just a little cold, kept out well enough by your jacket, but she wrapped her arm around you anyways. You went to protest, saying you were fine, but found yourself at a loss for words in her touch.

“I know this wonderful place. A bit haunted if you don’t mind that, a bit crowded too,” she said, walking you down the path. “It has _wonderful_ gin and tonics.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad,” you said with a smile barely pulling at your lips.

“It’s a bit of a walk too, want to take a cab? I’ll pay,” she offered, eyes already scanning the road for any taxis. Already being anxious, you didn’t want her paying for you, and walking could often help to avoid conversation in a less than awkward way.

“No, I’ll be alright I think. Thank you though,” you said, realizing as you said it how professional it sounded. She laughed, nodding.

“Alright then.”

She definitely was not lying when she said it was a long walk, and by the end of it, you were sort of regretting not calling a cab.

Viaduct Tavern, it was called, decorated in the classic black and gold. Upon entering she regaled you the history of the place, facts about its supposed haunting. The line out the door bothered you at first but she ignored it, stepping inside. In your own anxiety you followed, quickly nearly lost in the crowd. She found you before you did though, grabbing your hand in hers and leading you to the bar.

“Is this necessary?” You asked, almost shaking in her hold.

“What, holding your hand?” She gave you an odd look. You felt the opposite was deserved - you should’ve been looking at her odd. After all, she was the one still holding your hand despite the fact that you’d already reached the bar.

“Yes?”

“Don’t want you to get lost now, do we,” she said with a smile and a wink. Instantly, your organs appeared to have stopped working.

“Uh -“

You didn’t get to finish, as a man in a classic black and white bartending outfit came up, asking your orders.

“One of your peach gin and tonics, please,” Belicia ordered for you, leaning on the counter. The bartender nodded with a smile, telling you that it’d be ready in a few minutes.

“We can share, they’re rather big. I think you’ll like it,” she told you as he left.

“Right, uh - thank you,” you said, at a loss for what to say. It was loud in there, nearly too loud for you to hear each other. The interior decorating was nice though, obviously reminiscent of what it used to look like long ago.

“You enjoy your little job preview? It’ll get more interesting,” she said, at last letting go of your hand. You felt yourself breathing once more.

“It was fun, I think?” You laughed, mostly to yourself. “I’d take it if I knew how much I’d get payed.”

“About 4.60 an hour, I’d think.”

“That’s quite a bit for an assistant.”

“I think you’re worth it,” she giggled, eyes traveling back over the counter to where the bartender was mixing your drink.

“Think he’s cute?” You asked, following her gaze. He did have a nice butt.

“Not really my type,” she mumbled, chin rested on the palm of her hand. She turned back to you, smiling absently.

“What is your type then?” You asked, unsure where you were taking this conversation. It seemed the only logical way to go.

“Sweet, a little shy. Artistic. I think everyone likes someone who contrasts themselves well.”

“I don’t know about that,” you mumbled, half chuckling. You and Max were scarily similar in many aspects - but there was the fact that you did just break up, a break up long overdue. Belicia eyed you, one brow raised in questioning as she studied and practically harassed you with her eyes.

A moment later the bartender set the drink down, a slice of orange on the rim.

“Try it, see if you like it,” she said, voice soft and quiet as she pushed the tall drink towards you. The cup itself had a thin stem, but a huge bowl for the drink itself, filled with circular ice and coloured gin. You grasped the cup firmly, hoping it wouldn’t spill as you brought it to your lips.

Bitter and sweet, tasting exactly of peaches, with a hint of orange flavour. Overall, incredibly well crafted.

“It’s wonderful. Does this place specialize in these drinks?”

Belicia laughed, taking the drink from you and taking a sip of her own.

“I told you, it’s a gin palace. Takes them years to figure out just the right recipe for all their drinks.”

“It shows,” you chuckled, watching her lips as she took another drink. They curved gently around the cup, warming and fogging the glass as she sipped. With the cold off the ice they turned a brighter, more vibrant red. When she was finished she passed the cup to you, the cup still full in it’s near monstrous size. It was only a little smaller than your head.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourself,” she said out of nowhere as you took a sip. She sounded inquisitive, alluring, and eager to please - it made you almost spit out your drink.

“Yes, yes of course I am, this is fantastic. Thank you,” you spluttered as you set the cup down.

“And I hope we can still be friends and coworkers at the same time.”

“We’re not really coworkers, I work for you.”

“At my every beck and call,” she laughed in a sultry sort of way, eyes trailing over your expression once more.

“… Right,” you breathed out, voice halted and unsure.

The two of you continued chatting, talking about life and yourselves, sharing stories and the like. With careful eyes you watched the drink get lower and lower, knowing that its finish signified the end of the night. When at last it was empty, she payed, and the two of you stumbled out onto the street.

“I’ll get you a cab home, must be quite a walk from here,” she offered, leaning on you a little as you walked in cool night air.

“I can pay for my own ride home, I’m not broke. I’ve got a job,” you laughed, leaning into her as well. She was warm - achingly so, heat pouring off her body and melting your polite resolve.

“Alright. But,” she stopped you, turning to face you fully and grabbing both your hands in hers. “Stay safe. And… I shall see you… tomorrow?”

“Sounds wonderful,” you giggled.

“Wonderful,” she repeated with her own laugh, kissing your forehead in an all too friendly manner.

She left, and in a tipsy stupor you travelled home, collapsing in bed without ever getting the chance to tell a curious Max how your day had gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw, I got a tumblr. same username, poptod, and I'll be posting basically the same stuff and some oneshots that I haven't posted on here :)


End file.
